Olsen astounded even himself with the passion of his response.
Denver’s captain bristled. “Dammit! Jack. Now I see it — first Maddock and now you. Well let me tell you, Buster, I’m in command of this ship and if you care about your future in this man’s Navy, get back in that wardroom and work up a plan for getting us back to the States.”
“Are those your orders, Captain?”
“You goddamn betcha.”
“I’ll carry them out, sir.” Then Jack astounded himself again by saying, “But I will insist on including transcripts of this meeting and the wardroom meeting in our patrol report. It will describe in detail recommendations from the officers and your decision.”
“That includes you?”
“It does, Captain.”
“You son of a bitch. You’d really do that?”
Jack’s threat struck the captain at his most vulnerable spot. “I will, Captain. And, if I may, the remotest possibility of cowardice in the face of the enemy all but rules out your flag chances.”
Bostwick snarled, “Get the hell out of here.”
Jack Olsen knew he’d won one. About time, he thought.
Eric and Eve Danis sat in the tiny backyard of their rented house in Ridgecrest, California. The town grew up in the Mojave Desert with the Naval Weapons Facility and housed the people and businesses that supported the activities there. A spectacular sunset concluded a clear day and now they conversed beneath a brilliant canopy of stars.
“Eve,” Eric said, breaking the silence, “it’s downright embarrassing how I’m letting this desert grow on me.”
Twenty-two years of marriage had brought them to near perfect harmony. They could sit for hours without talking and still derive great pleasure from just being with each other.
“It would be embarrassing if it didn’t,” Eve replied. “I’ve always wondered how people who live out here could stand it. Now I know why they never want to leave.”
“I always thought we’d only settle near the ocean in retirement. Now I’m not so sure,” he said.
Retirement? Eve had not heard the word mentioned before now. “Is this an announcement?”
He replied, “Announcement? Oh, no, but then maybe so. Every now and then, my brain pops out things that I’m not sure I’m ready to say. This job is up in three months and there are plenty of young bucks who’d like to push me off this springboard.”
Eve felt a surge of pity for her husband. The road to this point in his career had been a long and hard one with seventeen years at sea, running the gauntlet of junior officer assignments, executive officer and then command. He had served six years in the latter capacity, four as captain of a 688 class SSN and two in a Trident. Sixty percent of his years found Eric at sea and away from his family.
She asked, “Why don’t we talk about it?”
“Ya know, Eve, it’ll be the hardest decision of my life. No one knows better than you how hard I worked to make flag, but if it’s not meant to be, it won’t happen.”
“You’ve got plenty of good company. A lot of good men don’t make it, simply because there’re not enough promotions for all who deserve one.”
“You’re right, Eve. And a lot of guys deserve it more than I do. It won’t be easy to quit, especially in the middle of a war. This gives me another option. Maybe obligation is a more appropriate term.”
“Obligation, Eric?”
“Step down and take a lesser assignment. One that’s really not a challenge but in need of being done. It’ll take some crow eating for an anointed squadron commander to fall back into the trenches, but I can do that.”
Eve asked sympathetically, “Is that what you believe you should do?”
“Yes, I really do. After thirty years at the trough, I owe the Navy. In peacetime, the best favor I could pay them would be to get out and make way for the next guy. Go home and write articles for the Naval Institute on how things should really be done. Go to Submarine League Symposiums and make small talk with the good old boys. God, I’d love it, Eve, but can I really do that? Guess I’m scared that if I stay, everyone will think I’m a die-hard and want to hang around just to see if lightning strikes later.”
Reaching over, Eve took her husband’s hand. “Eric, you’ve got no worries. Everyone who knows you is in your corner, and that includes all the best submariners. They will know what you’re doing, and the rest can damn well go to hell,” Eve said with an uncharacteristic show of candor.
Eric smiled. “You sure have a way of cutting to the issue, Eve. I’ll think on it of course, but I’ll likely take the reassignment. Couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t.” Then changing the subject, he asked, “How do you feel about packing up and driving off to Washington State?”
“Actually, not too good,” she replied. “I know why I like the desert so much. I see you every evening at five o’clock sharp. Think about it. We’ve not had that throughout your entire career. I’m used to it now and I know what happens when you get submarines to play with.”
Eric dodged her with a subject change. “These flyboys are very good, Eve. They stay on top of things and keep me informed. Hate to admit it, but Gerry Carter’s the best Chief Staff Officer I’ve ever had. He’s got me calibrated and starts jobs before I even assign them. He’s already in Washington State and will likely get me home early up there just as he does here. You know Carter’s the real thing if he can impress Dave Zane, and Dave can’t say enough good things about him.”
Eve said, “Seeing Dave would be compensation for heading up that way. And Bea, too. I haven’t seen them since Dale’s funeral. Do you know how Bea’s doing?”
“That dumpy little girl has grown into a beautiful young woman. Dave says she’s interested in young Maddock on Denver.”
She teased her husband. “I thought she’d be smart enough not to go after a submariner.”
“Well now, you didn’t do too bad. Lucky for you they built Conn College across the river from the submarine base,” he said referring to Eve’s Alma Mater in New London, Connecticut where he met her while in Officers’ Basic Submarine school.
“Just the other way around, dear man. Lucky for you they built the Sub Base across the river from Conn College. We were there first.”
He thought for a moment. “Maybe we’re both lucky.”
They exchanged a smile and Eric continued, “Do you have any regrets, Eve? I know it’s been a tough road for you … nursing a bunch of young wives while I played at sea. And maybe seeing even less of me during my shore duty while in Washington. The damn Pentagon’s a treadmill. Where else can a man spend so much time on the job and get so little done?”
“No harder for me than for you, though I didn’t like sea duty a bit,” Eve confessed. “There seemed to be such a finality about it when the ships deployed. We had no contact. At the Pentagon, you were done in when you came home, but at least we got to say hi to each other. Not so with sea duty. And Sean liked having you around.”
“Well he sure kept it a secret from me … our son the poet. If only he could write poetry.”
“Don’t be so cynical, Eric. He’s so much like you it’s frightening. Maybe that’s why I hated sea duty the most. I could do many things for him, but I couldn’t be you.”
“I’m proud of Sean. He stands his ground. He’s likely matured beyond the points of view that got him into his current situation. But he’s burned too many bridges and doesn’t know how to get out.”
“I wish you and Sean would resume talking to each other.”
“He has that option and I don’t want to push it. He’s only nineteen. I remember how I could get my back up at that age. Maybe he’ll come to Mark Twain’s conclusion. At fourteen, he considered his father so ignorant he could hardly stand to be near him, but when Twain reached twenty-one, his dad astonished him with how much he had learned in seven years. Maybe I’ll be that lucky.”